


It Hurts to Watch

by crowby



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, I don't go in detail with it but it can be a bit much for some, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Slight Comfort, Violence, Whump, slight gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowby/pseuds/crowby
Summary: Crowley experiences visions, where he sees himself harming Aziraphale
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	It Hurts to Watch

**Author's Note:**

> a commission for a lovely skost uwu

The smell of many different spices and savory aromas wafted through the air. It felt as though there was a thin fog from the multiple pots boiling, melting, or burning all sorts of things. Despite the windows of the entire second floor being wide open, and every fan on high velocity, the kitchen was uncomfortably warm. The lanky serpent-like demon, Crowley, was mostly not bothered by it. At least, that’s how he made it appear along with many other things in his life. His angelic friend, Aziraphale, on the other hand was having a tougher time working in his current conditions.   
  
The angel had shed his stuffy looking coat to the side and rolled up his sleeves to prevent any staining. His brow was covered with sweat and his hair was in disarray. He wore an apron as well, with the words “Angel Mood Cake” sewn onto the front, though he was able to avoid any stains on his clothes the apron didn’t fare better. For the millionth time in just that hour, Aziraphale dabbed his brow with a spare dishcloth before hurrying around the kitchen once more. Crowley  watched from the dining room as the shorter male zig-zagged around, desperately trying to keep up himself. Crowley was sure that if he was human, he would have broken down from exhaustion at this point.    
  
“Y’know…” Crowley began to say as he set up the table. “You could just… I don’t know, miracle up something for dinner.”   
  
Aziraphale stopped dead as he was about to go mix something and looked at him as though he’d grown a second head. Crowley had realized what he’d done and was now preparing himself for one of his angel’s speeches.   
  
“ _ Crowley _ , I can see you are not much of a chef yourself, so I will explain to you how absurd you sound. Cooking has a certain art to it, while still having its simplicity, but takes a lot of talent to master!”   
  
Crowley leaned against the table with one arm as he half listened to Aziraphale. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he had already heard this speech when Aziraphale had begun cooking hours ago. He was mostly just getting a rise out of him at this point. He had no idea why the angel couldn’t tell him he just liked to cook, but at least he did somewhat enjoy Aziraphale’s rants. As he went onto the part of his rant that was about the cultural impact of cooking, the demon noticed some smoke emitting from the stove behind him.   
  
“Uh, angel…”   
  
“Don’t interrupt me yet, dear.”   
  
“Aziraphale.”   
  
The angel gave an annoyed sigh before responding.   
“Yes?”   
  
“I think some of your art is burning,” he said as he pointed to the stove.   
  
Aziraphale quickly spun around just in time to see smoke rising from one of the pots. With a yelp he  quickly went over to fix it. There was a small, black pot that looked to be filled with what appeared to be some kind of gravy or creme, but that was hard to tell as it had all turned as black as the pot itself. Aziraphale grabbed it, slightly burning himself on the handle, and took it to the sink. He blasted cold water into it as he sadly stared at the failed dish. Crowley slithered to his side and looked at the wet, burnt remains.   
  
“Maybe it’s just me but I think our guests won’t enjoy that,” the demon said as he shut the water off for the other.   
  
“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale exclaimed as he turned to his friend with the saddest expression. “Maybe I should just miracle the food, I can’t do it.”   
  
A terrible pang hit Crowley’s mostly dead heart as he saw Aziraphale’s hopeless face. He could see those baby blue eyes go glossy and wet as he looked back at the pot. The demon couldn’t help himself feel guilty for all this. The small demonic part of him, the one he’d been trying to squash out since he officially joined his and Aziraphale’s side, berated him for feeling guilty over a burnt pot of moosh. He ignored it, as he had done a lot lately, and took Aziraphale’s hand into his own. He could feel the small burns and used a bit of demonic interference to heal them a lot quicker.    
  
“What if I help you remake it?”   
  
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at Crowley.   
“Dear, you don’t have to!”   
  
“I want to, and I think you need it anyways.”   
  
Aziraphale wanted to interject, to try and refuse Crowley’s gesture, but as he turned to the stove and then to the clock, he figured there was no real issue in having a bit of help.   
  
“Alright,” he said with a sigh. “You can help just a little.”   
  
The angelic man hurried to a cabinet and grabbed a few things. He then went over to the island and laid everything out while Crowley washed his hands. The demon didn’t know much about cooking, but he did watch Ratatouille and he felt he knew enough to get by. That still didn’t stop him feeling nervous as Aziraphale went to a shelf to grab even more stuff. Once Aziraphale had practically designed Crowley’s personal cooking area, the man himself was ready to get going.    
  
“Just fill this pot up with about ⅓ cup of olive oil and then chop up some garlic and onions. After that, you will add a sprinkle of these in and then when you’re done, I’ll tell what else you need to do,” Aziraphale explained as he pointed to three different containers of spices and herbs.   
  
Crowley doubted his brain had properly taken that in, but he nodded in understanding anyway. Aziraphale gave him one of his adorable smiles before he opened his mouth to say something, but one of the other pots was now boiling over. The angel quickly went to address it, letting the red-head ultimately decide now would probably be a good time to get going. He looked over the counter for a knife and luckily Aziraphale had left a long and particularly sharp blade for him to use. As he picked it up he heard the other man start saying something as he now got the pot under control.   
  
“I’m very thankful for having you help me, dear boy.”   
  


The tall, thin man made some odd noise at the statement as he started to chop up some onions. Thankfully with a little miracle on his end, he wasn't affected that much by said onion. Though as he tried to chop the vegetables into small pieces, he could still feel an odd pain or pressure on the sides of his head. He pushed through it though, even when the supposed headache hurt some more.

"I don't really know why, but I suppose I don't want you wasting time on me is all."

"I'm not 'wasting' anything, angel. Plus, we're immortal anyhow so if we do have anything to waste, it is time," Crowley responded, though he felt he had struggled through that whole response for some reason.

"I guess you're right, Crowley"

"I am… I am right," Crowley said, a bit more slurred than usual.

  
He slowly looked up at the angel as he stirred. His back faced the demon as he continued to speak. Despite only being a few feet away, Crowley felt like Aziraphale’s voice was distant and quiet as he was saying something to him. His grip tightened on the wooden handle of the knife while straining his ears to actually listen. All noise soon faded into only a high ringing noise and nothing else. He furrowed his brow, feeling the pressure in his head as he did so, and looked back down at his own hands. Crowley had stopped cutting and was now simply just staring at the knife, seeing the thin blade that still had some weight to it.  
  
  


_ He felt his whole body tense up suddenly as his heart began to beat wildly, his knuckles also turning white as he held the knife tighter. He felt a chill run up his spine, causing him to have gooseflesh. The chill soon turned into a cold burn that ran through his body. He could feel it travel from his feet all the way to his head as the burn ascended.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He felt himself begin to walk, but he almost didn’t notice. It felt like he was moving through air, as everything felt much more lighter and airy. It was as though he shed his human vessel and was traveling in his spiritual form, only this spiritual form wasn’t ‘him’ exactly. He could still feel the incessant drumming of his heart and a painful throbbing behind his eyes. Crowley felt himself begin to panic, but it was soon washed away as another wave of cold burning wracked his body again.  _ _  
_ _  
_ _ He stood right behind Aziraphale, who was clueless to his presence. He stared at the back of his head for a moment or two, the pain feeling like it was maybe subsiding. But then, with uncanny speed, his hand which he had very little control over, grabbed Aziraphale’s hair as tightly as possible before yanking his head back. Crowley brought the knife, which he had no idea he was still holding, and quickly slashed Aziraphale’s throat with no effort. Crowley felt sick, wanting to scream loudly as the burning came again worse this time.  _ _  
_ _  
_ “Crowley!”   
  
The demon blinked his golden eyes as he was now looking down at the knife in his hand. He could feel he was sweating and trembling slightly. He dropped the knife and backed away from it as though it had just burnt him. He had to manually breathe to get his heart to calm down. He looked at Aziraphale who was still facing away from him, now frying something in a pan. Crowley seemed to relax some when he saw that Aziraphale was alive and not currently bleeding all over.   
  
“Are you done yet?”   
  
“Um…” Crowley swallowed hard and tried to find his voice. “Not yet, no.”   
  
“Alright, tell me when you’re done.”   
  
“Will do…” he said as he took one last deep sigh and slowly stepped back over to the counter again. It took him a few moments to pick the knife up again, but after holding it and making sure  **that** didn’t happen again, he did what Aziraphale told him to do.    
  
The demon had had intrusive thoughts before, just like anyone else. You’re standing on a tall thing and suddenly your brain suggests you should jump off. Or how you hold something important and your brain says it would be pretty fun to drop it. But what had happened was definitely not just some intrusive thought. It was vivid, and detailed, and felt way too real to just be a passing thought. He could still feel Aziraphale’s hair and the feel of the knife puncturing his skin. It was all too real, but apparently it also wasn’t.   
  
Crowley chalked it up to nerves, due to their planned get together and cooking, and tried to ignore it for the rest of the evening. Emphasis on ‘tried’.   
  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=   
  
Their small dinner get-together went off without a hitch. The guests were happy, the food was good, and Crowley seemed to have no more visions the rest of the evening. The initial one had him spooked most of the time, keeping himself away from any sharp objects or flammable things. However, when no more of those mental episodes seem to reappear again, Crowley was able to relax a little and mingle with the guests. Though, that didn’t stop him from still leaving the party earlier than most.   
  
Aziraphale was growing more and more suspicious of him as the night went on. What really tipped him off was Crowley’s departure. He explained to everyone that he felt he was coming down with something. The guests were reasonably understanding and said their goodbyes, but Aziraphale knew something wasn’t right. He wasn’t sure of what though. The angel had mentally gone over the day thousands of times and still couldn’t come up with a reason as to why Crowley would behave so strangely. He supposed at this point Crowley was actually sick, if that were a thing to really happen to either of them.   
  
While the ethereal being pondered over all of this, a certain demon was brooding in his lavish home. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. His hair was a mess and he still wore his pajamas despite it almost being noon. It was clear he couldn’t sleep. Whatever had happened to him yesterday still clung to his mind. Crowley wanted to forget about it. He wanted to move on and try to get some unneeded rest but it couldn’t happen.   
  
That vision, or episode, or very intense intrusive thought felt all too real to just not be anything. Around his feet lay books and papers of various demonic writings. There were symbols and incantations, even hilariously wrong info about various demons that Crowley knew personally, but nothing could explain to him what that  **thing** was. After an all nighter of personal study, Crowley concluded this as being the work of a demon. Maybe even Hastur or Beelzebub themselves. He couldn’t be sure though.   
  
The demon had had enough of this mental torture. He knew himself better than any demon in hell ever would. He was Crowley, The Serpent of Eden, the demon who helped stop the apocalypse, and someone who would never in their life hurt his dearest best friend in any way. If another fit came about, he knew he would be fine, because he would never actually do something like that. He had control over what he did. A very tiny part of him doubted that last bit, however.    
  
Without another thought, Crowley snapped his fingers to get himself more adequately dressed and cleaned up before heading out the door and making his way to the bookshop. Out of spite to whoever was spying and messing with him, he had done a few good miracles on his drive to Aziraphale’s place. The cherry on top to his spiteful outburst to his possible conspirator was parking instead of just driving on the curb in front of the bookshop.    
  
Gathering his energy, he slipped out of the Bentley with all the swagger and grace he had. He made his way into the bookshop, not checking if it was even open or not. It didn’t matter though, as the door seemed to always unlock for Crowley. The small bell above the door gave a small chime that snapped Aziraphale out of his deep thinking. The angelic man looked to Crowley, giving a relieved smile to him as he stood up and walked to the other side of the desk.   
  
“Crowley, dear, it’s so good to see you!” Aziraphale exclaimed as Crowley nonchalantly idled up to him.   
  
“You saw me last night, angel. No need to get too excited.”   
  
“Oh I know, but, well…” Aziraphale trailed off as he began to fiddle with his jacket sleeves and averting his gaze from Crowley.   
  
The red-head slightly cocked his head to the side.   
“Yeah?”   
  
“I-I was kind of, sort of, worried things could be happening in your life that I don’t necessarily know about.”    
  
Crowley seemed to straighten out and stuff his hands in his pants pockets. He wasn’t sure if Aziraphale would even take much interest in him leaving early, as he seemed more occupied with mingling than him. But he supposed he was acting a bit unusual that night.   
  
“Now I know I don’t need to be in the loop about  _ everything _ , we can live our own lives and I hate to be intrusive, but I was worried about you last night,” Aziraphale continued, only taking glances towards Crowley as he tried to look anywhere else.   
  
Crowley felt his mouth dry up as that vision came back to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to tell Aziraphale, he wanted to collapse into his arms and tell him how his stomach felt like it was filled with lead. How tired and scared he had become. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. He was already scared for Aziraphale, and he didn’t want to bring his angel into anymore of his demonic bullshit. So instead, he relaxed back into a more ‘cool’ looking position and made up his best lie.   
  
“You really make yourself worry too much, Aziraphale.” He said, which finally got Aziraphale to look directly at him. “I’m fine, I just thought the party was not much of… my speed, if you understand.”   
  
“Oh,” Aziraphale seemed to breath out.   
  
“Nothing against you, angel, just not my kind of scene.”   
  
“I’m sorry, Crowley. About the party and prying.”   
  
Crowley internally winced. He didn’t mean to hurt Aziraphale, but it was better than the truth in his opinion.    
“You’re fine, angel. Hey, while I’m here, how about we go grab some lunch. On me.”   
  
“I would love to, really, but I am unfortunately busy. I got a shipment of books and I haven’t even started to set them up yet.”   
  
“Ah… I could help if you want.”   
  
Aziraphale waved his hand dismissively.   
“You don’t have to! It’s quite alright!”   
  
“I want to. Have it be my apology for making you worry all night.”   
  
Aziraphale internally fought with himself over this decision. It took a few moments but he eventually agreed and led the demon to a few boxes in the back room. They were filled with more modern books. The angel had decided after the not-apocalypse that it wouldn’t hurt to be running a somewhat functioning bookshop. So he would set these books near the front of the store while the more precious ones were near the back. Aziraphale explained that Crowley would bring these boxes to the front of the store, and then they can both set them up.   
  
Everything was going smoothly enough. They both carried the boxes to the front and Crowley had Aziraphale open them all since he was already holding the box knife, and Crowley was thankful he only had one to begin with. Aziraphale then had the demon just stack shelves while he took care of the window and front displays. The blond got very into his decorating, not paying a lot of attention to his demonic friend stocking some young adult novels.    
  
Crowley was able to shut his mind off and do what he had to without much thought. Suddenly though, he could feel a low pressure on the sides of his head. It didn’t feel like much, but then it began to get worse and throb slightly. That was when Crowley’s mind came back on and he was starting to panic. He remembered this feeling, before that vision. He looked to Aziraphale, who was still busy with his own project. Crowley watched him carefully, all while his head felt heavy and ached. He decided to slowly shuffle his way behind the bookshelf he was stacking. Once he assumed he was out of sight, Crowley leaned against the heavy and old bookshelf and groaned as quietly as possible.    
  
He couldn’t let these episodes get him again. He wouldn’t, no,  _ couldn’t  _ hurt Aziraphale even if he wanted to. He would fight through this even when he felt the pressure get worse. His sight was becoming useless to him as the world around him blurred, and the pressure felt like something was squeezing his head until whatever it was could get in it. He closed his eyes tight and used every bit of his power to fight back against this force. Crowley really tried, but the more he struggled the more it seemed to get worse. He felt like his head weighed a ton now, and there was an insistent ringing in his ears. Eventually, like a rubber band being stretched as far as it could go, Crowley’s resistance snapped and it began to happen again.   
  
_ His eyes opened as that same icy burn coursed through his entire being this time. Goosebumps appeared on his skin as his eyes stung and ached. Crowley tried to scream, but his body wouldn’t let him just like last time. It was as though he was watching the first person view of someone else rather than himself. Whatever being was puppeteering him, it moved him back around the bookshelf and made its way to Aziraphale. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ It felt like he was walking on air again, but he could still feel his feet step on the thick, worn carpet and make slight impressions in it. Crowley tried to make his body turn around and go back, maybe even yell and warn Aziraphale, but it was virtually useless. Luckily, he knew this version of him had no weapons to use, as the angel had put the exacto knife in his pocket on Crowley’s request. He felt proud as  _ **_it_ ** _ also realized this and stopped in  _ **_its_ ** _ tracks. Crowley was already working on a way to take back control as he thought he won, but  _ **_it_ ** _ turned to look at some of the candle sticks on the display table. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Crowley desperately fought back before  _ **_it_ ** _ could realize what he could do, but a rush of burns wracked his entire body. He was mentally knocked back as  _ **_it_ ** _ grabbed one of the heavy, silver candlesticks and made haste towards Aziraphale. The angel turned around in time to see what looked to be Crowley before  _ **_it_ ** _ gave a smack to the side of Aziraphale’s head. The other man was knocked back, having no time to recover as he was hit again and harder this time. Aziraphale fell to the ground and raised his arms in defense as  _ **_it_ ** _ advanced on him. _ _  
_ _  
_ **_It_ ** _ got on top of the ethereal being and continuously beat Aziraphale on the head with the candlestick while Crowley screamed inside his own mind, watching every second. The angel clearly struggled, but his efforts got more and more weak with every wack. Blood splattered on every available surface as every thud became a loud crunch instead. The candlestick was damp with blood and Crowley felt sick hearing the crunching turn to just loud smacking sounds. The worst wasn’t over, however.  _ **_It_ ** _ panted and dropped the candlestick onto the now heavily stained carpet. Crowley felt his body shudder before a burst of laughter erupted from him. His own laughter ringing in his ears along with his hammering heart. _ _  
_ _  
_ The demon was thrust back into reality with a sharp gasp. He was sweaty yet cold, and his skin had paled. He dropped to his knees as his body trembled, actually feeling he would vomit this time. Crowley tried to desperately recover, but the image of what he,  **it** , had done was freshly detailed into his mind. Every bit of it permanently etched into him forever, especially that  _ damned _ laugh. He must have been like that for quite some time, because eventually he heard Aziraphale calling for him.   
  
Crowley didn’t listen to him, instead making his way around the bookshelf and darting past the shorter man. He didn’t look back as he exited the bookshop and jumped into the bentley. From the corner of his eye, he saw Aziraphale leaving the bookshop after him. With a hard press to the gas and a sharp turn of the wheel, he u-turned away while giving some miraculous escapes for anyone in his way. Crowley wasn’t entirely sure where he was heading but he knew he just needed to go  _ somewhere _ that wasn’t near Aziraphale, not as long as he was like this.   
  
The horror from before was now replaced with rage as the demon gripped the steering wheel with inhuman strength. He needed to track down whoever was screwing with him and punch their teeth in. He didn’t care if it was even Satan himself, he had stood up to him before and he had very little to lose at this point. As he made another sharp turn, he felt that ache and pressure build up again. Crowley let out a long hiss from gritted teeth while he felt the burn behind his eyes once again.    
  
The occult being kept driving, using pure rage and strength to keep pushing back against the energy forcing its way into his head. He was so busy fighting back he didn’t notice he had left the city and was now in the countryside. Crowley felt his reserve slipping away now, and decided the best thing to do was head down a dirt road and park to the side. Once he was fully parked, he locked the door and even snapped off the handle to his car door. It slightly pained him to damage his precious vehicle, but that was something to worry about later.   
  
“Come on, you bastard!! Get me now!” Crowley shouted to air.   
  
The pressure had grown into a painful throbbing all through his head. The only thing he could hear was his quick heartbeat while his eyes stung terribly. His entire body was sweating profusely despite also shivering from the drastic body temperature change. Even though he gave this force the chance to make him see whatever sick shit it wanted him too, all it did was cause his body more pain. This only made Crowley angrier.   
  
“Don’t taunt me, just do it already!”   
  
The moment he tightly shut his eyes, the pain subsided like it never occurred in the first place. Crowley was surprised, but still suspicious of what was to come. He stayed still for some time, not daring to move a single muscle until he was absolutely sure he was fine. Another minute of peaceful silence passed before it was abruptly interrupted by the ring of his cellphone. Crowley then decided to open his eyes, noticing he was able to control his body just fine, and then patted himself down to retrieve his phone. But when he went to pat himself down, he noticed his clothes were somewhat damp.   
  
When he looked down to inspect how that could be, he noticed he wasn’t even in his own clothes. Instead, he was wearing a dirty suit that felt as though it had been wet hours ago and was still oddly moist and slimy. Crowley decided to put the phone on the backburner as he looked down at himself confused. The tie was loose around his neck and the white shirt underneath was half open. It looked as though dirt or dried mud covered most of his clothes.   
  
His confusion didn’t wane as he looked around and found himself back in London, but now it had become night. He looked around his car for any clues as to what was happening. The more he discovered, however, he was beginning to feel sick once again. The backseat was filled with various tools and clothes. All of them were also caked in dirt and something that Crowley couldn’t clearly identify in the dark. Some of the clothes in the back didn’t appear to be his either. The windows of the bentley were slightly fogged and covered in perspiration. The worst, in the demon’s opinion, was what sat in the passenger seat.   
  
There was an odd looking lantern that was abnormally dull but giving off immense heat. Crowley instantly knew what it was; it was hellfire. His heart dropped the moment he laid eyes on it. He believed that the force from before was just tricking him, messing with his mind to just see things again. As the ringing from his phone finally stopped, he closed his eyes again and willed himself to go back to reality. But as he sat there, wishing and forcing himself to supposedly snap out of it, he slowly came to the realization that this  _ was  _ reality.    
  
Crowley couldn’t feel any pain like before, and he didn’t feel that lighter-than-air sensation either. His body was hyper aware of everything around him, to the feel of his grimy clothes to the smell of copper that filled the air in the car. He snapped his eyes open again when his phone rang again. He was scared to look for it again, fearing he might see something he couldn’t unsee ever again. Thankfully, he noticed the screen of his cellphone reflecting off the windshield. He also saw the caller ID and temporarily felt relieved to see it be Aziraphale.    
  
He scrambled for the phone and almost dropped it while trying to answer. His whole body felt too stiff and tense to make proper movements. Once he got a proper grip on the device, he simply just listened and stayed silent, not only in fear but also he couldn’t find any words at the moment.   
  
“Crowley?? Are you there?? What’s wrong?!” he heard Aziraphale practically yell in the phone.   
  
After a few beats of silence and heavy breathing on Crowley’s part, he finally responded.   
“Um… hey there… angel.”   
  
“Crowley!! Are you in trouble?? Is someone attacking you?? You sounded so strange before and you said you needed to meet with me somewhere, but you sounded so strange I-”   
  
“Aziraphale, I…” Crowley interrupted harshly but trailed off immediately after. “I’m fine, alright? I’m okay.”   
  
“Clearly you are not! Don’t take me for a fool.”   
  
“I’m not taking you for anything, I really am-”   
  
“No, you run away from the bookshop like a bat out of hell, and then disappear for a week to leave me a cryptic message. That doesn't sound like anyone’s version of ‘fine’!”   
  
“Wait… a week?”   
  
“You don’t even know how long you’ve been gone?”   
  
“Aziraphale… it…” Crowley began to say but so many things were running through his head and the pressure of it all was finally collapsing in on him.    
He wasn’t sure how to lie out of this one, and when he debated just telling the truth he had no idea how to even begin explaining the whole mess. Instead, Crowley’s eyes filled with tears as his breath got caught in his throat. He quietly let out a whimper as he leaned back in his seat, clutching the phone close to his head.   
  
“Aziraphale, I don’t remember. I really don’t.”   
  
The angel heard the strained voice on the other end and immediately switched his tone to something calmer.   
“It’s going to be alright dear.”   
  
“No, it’s not. I’m really not fine and… and I’m just tired,” Crowley choked out between sobs.   
  
There were a few beats of silence as Crowley tried desperately to stop the onslaught of tears coming out of him.   
  
“It will be okay, Crowley. I promise, whatever is happening, we can get through this together.”   
  
“I-I guess.”

  
“We’re on our own side dear, and we need to look out for each other.”   
  
Crowley weakly smiled at the statement, sniffling a bit and wiping more tears away.   
“You’re right.”   
  
“I am right. Here, head over I’ll prepare some hot chocolate for the both of us and we’ll talk, okay?”   
  
Crowley nodded before realizing Aziraphale couldn’t see him.   
  
“Okay, see you soon, angel.”   
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow me at https://discoinfernocrowby.tumblr.com/ if you wanna ask me questions or the sort


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